


(to be, to live, to dance) with you

by chlexcer



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: "ppl think we're dating but we aren't (yet) but let's play along" au, Beach Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Time Skip, Semi-Public Sex, brazil fling turned long distance romance, oikawa is in love, some insecurities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 17:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30109293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chlexcer/pseuds/chlexcer
Summary: Oikawa and Hinata have this ‘thing’ going on where they are obviously crazy about each other, but they don’t talk about it.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 7
Kudos: 86





	(to be, to live, to dance) with you

**Author's Note:**

> written for the HQ!! NSFW Big Bang because i'll take any and every opportunity i can get to write about oihina being in love
> 
> brought to you by yours truly and the amazing [@abo_gadro](https://twitter.com/abo_gadro), who drew delicious and gorgeous (nsfw) fanarts [here](https://twitter.com/abo_gadro/status/1372325077300183042?s=20), [here](https://twitter.com/abo_gadro/status/1372325190022144002?s=20) and [here](https://twitter.com/abo_gadro/status/1372325296175779846?s=20). go give them love!
> 
> hope you like it!

“Oikawa-senpai! Here!”

Oikawa turns his head towards the voice that called his name, the corners of his lips rising at the mere sound of it.

He spots Shouyou right away. How could he not? The little shrimp is literally unmissable - always has been.

Years ago when they first met in one of the gyms of Aoba Johsai, Shouyou’s presence was already as inconspicuous as a neon sign or a firework display, and it’s only intensified since then. He’s gotten tan and buff after all these years, and even grown a few centimeters above 170. His hair is still a bright orange, his smile is still blinding, and his loud voice still calls him in Japanese, which Oikawa hasn’t heard in person in a while.

He’s missed him.

His little smile turns into a full fledged grin when he finally sees the younger man through his sunglasses, all buff and orange and blinding, waving what looks like a ripped piece of paper with Oikawa’s name in Japanese written in Sharpie across it.

He’s wearing a cap on his head and a comfy tank top over swimming trunks, looking perfectly beachy and perfectly dashing. Oikawa is dressed fresh for the summer too, and he likes to think he looks dashing as well, but perhaps he’s dressed far too formally in comparison, with his button-up linen shirt and light brown trousers.

Seeing Shouyou, his miles of tanned skin and his beach-ready style, makes Oikawa feel a little overdressed.

It makes him want to take off his clothes immediately and teleport the two of them to the nearest beach so they can play around in the sand and the water like they’ve done so many times before, even if the hours he spent sitting on a plane from San Juan to Buenos Aires, and then from Buenos Aires to Rio, sit gross and heavy on his muscles and his eyelids, and his lungs are still filled with recycled airplane air.

They won’t get much time to go to the beach this time around, sadly, but honestly, Oikawa isn’t too disappointed about that. The reason he’s here in Rio is Shouyou invited him as a “casual date” for the wedding of a teammate, so how could Oikawa be disappointed? They’re gonna spend a great time together because he’s been to Latin American weddings before and he knows they’re the most fun anyone can have. 

Also, the wedding reception is going to take place in the seaside, and the hotel they’re staying at is right across the street from a prominent beach, so surely they’ll get at least a little bit of sand in their hair.

Regarding the invitation itself, which Shouyou delivered via FaceTime three whole months ago, there was way more emphasis on the  _ casual  _ part rather than the  _ date  _ part, but that was to be expected. They are casual and  _ have been _ casual ever since their whatever-it-is-they-have started, so.

Yeah.

“Look at you,” Oikawa says when he’s finally close enough, his fingers and his hands and his arms (casually) buzzing with the need to touch Shouyou. “Came here straight from the beach, didn’t you?”

Shouyou shakes his head.

“Actually, no!” He replies, beaming as he stuffs the ripped piece of paper in his pocket. “Just the pool at Heitor and Nice’s apartment. But look at  _ you _ ! Came here straight from a boating club ad, or something? You look so good!”

Hearing Shouyou praise him like that, suddenly Oikawa doesn’t care he's overdressed. He smirks.

“It’s really flattering for you to say that, chibi-chan. Especially considering I just spent, like, seven hours sitting down and I don’t feel very fresh. Also, my ass hurts.”

Shouyou gasps.

“Oh, no, not your ass!” he says, obviously playing around. “I can kiss it better later, if you want.”

Oikawa doesn’t even flinch at that. He doubts anyone around them can understand them, or even hear them over the loud noise.

Plus, he’s heard way worse from Hinata so he just snorts, amused, and maybe a little bit turned on.

“As long as you treat me to dinner first, then sure.”

It’s summer - at least in the southern hemisphere - , so the first thing Oikawa feels the moment they step out of the airport is the heat of the sun enveloping him like a second skin, sticking to the nape of his neck in beads of sweat. 

It only gets worse when they get to Shouyou’s car, which he drove all the way to Rio from his home in Sao Paulo. In his haste to get to the arrivals gate in time he parked in the first parking space he found - right under the sun. So, it’s a literal oven in there.

The seatbelt buckle burns against Oikawa’s back when Shouyou finally puts his mouth on him, in the relative privacy of his burning hot car, and he almost doesn’t mind it much. Shouyou’s kisses are that much hotter and it’s been months since they last saw each other and he’s missed him like crazy —

But then the pain surpasses the pleasure of Shouyou’s lips on his and of his fingers tangling in his hair, and he hisses and pushes the younger man away.

They’ll get enough time to do this - and more - later. Pretty much the whole weekend, actually - which isn’t as much as Oikawa would like, sadly, but it’s still something. He’s gonna get way more kisses later, in their comfortable and air-conditioned hotel room and in the bathroom of a wedding venue, so it’s fine to pull away for now if it means not getting serious burns on his back.

Still, Shouyou pouts at him and tilts his head in question after getting pushed away.

“Something wrong?”

“The seatbelt burnt me,” Oikawa admits, pouting right back and getting overcome with the necessity of stroking Shouyou’s cheek for the mere sake of touching him. He decides to go for it, and he cups the side of Shouyou’s face with one hand and places the other on the familiar curve of his waist. “And it’s too hot in here for that anyway. Let’s get to the hotel first, okay? I know I’m irresistible, but do you think you can keep it in your pants 'till then, chibi-chan?”

He smirks up at Shouyou, who’s nearly climbed onto his lap on the passenger’s seat, as he strokes his waist through the fabric of his flimsy shirt. The younger laughs at the old nickname, and his breath is warm but pleasant against Oikawa’s skin, even in the boiling hot car.

“I can, I can. Sorry,” he says, grinning, and ugh - it makes Oikawa’s heart do a flip. “I’m just really happy to see you,” he tells him with such ease and honesty that it almost makes Oikawa jealous.

He wants to tell Shouyou that he’s happy - no, that he's  _ thrilled _ \- to see him too; that he’s missed him a lot even if they’ve talked almost daily since they last saw each other, and a whole lot of stupid and embarrassing and selfish stuff, but he doesn’t manage to muster the honesty before Shouyou pecks him on the cheek noisily and pulls back to sit on the driver’s seat.

“Okay! Let’s go before you melt to death.”

Oikawa is left with a fluttering sensation in his chest as he nods and relaxes back into the seat.

“Thank you.”

  
  
  


“I was gonna say I can’t believe you brought all your ties with you, but I think I can.”

“Bold of you to assume those are all my ties, Shouyou-kun,” Oikawa smirks lazily down at Shouyou from where he’s lying down on the hotel bed. He’s beat because traveling always exhausts him, but also because Shouyou tired him out just now, and he doesn’t only feel travel-gross anymore, but also sex-gross.

But tired and sex-gross as he feels, what he feels most of all is very content and satisfied. Fuzzy, like a puddle of rainwater evaporating under direct sunlight.

They went to dinner at their usual place by the beach, the same one Shouyou took him to the first time, before going back to the hotel. As they went up the elevator, hands almost brushing together but not quite under the security camera, Shouyou told him it still felt kinda odd to visit Rio and stay in hotels after having lived here a couple years.

“Fancy hotels, too! It’s weird to think I was working as a delivery boy right here until not too long ago, and now I get treated like some sort of celebrity,” he commented, smiling to himself, and the fluttering sensation that invaded Oikawa’s chest back at the airport parking lot returned with full force. Maybe it never went away to begin with. Whatever it was, it felt a lot like pride and fondness, and once again his fingers tingled with the impulse of taking Shouyou’s hand in his, security camera be damned.

“You  _ are _ a celebrity.”

“It’s weird to think about.”

Oikawa smiled at him through the mirrored wall of the elevator and didn’t say that he’s thought for the longest time that he was destined to be admired by everyone who laid their eyes on him.

He showed him, instead.

Once they reached their room, it was Oikawa who crowded Shouyou against the door and kissed him. He was tired from his long flight, but ever since they started their “thing” - whatever their “thing” was -, and even before then, Shouyou’s always been able to infuse him with a sort of adrenaline and hunger that wipes out everything and everybody else in the world until the universe zeroes in on him and only him.

Shouyou tasted like sunscreen, like the food they had for dinner, and like something Oikawa had never been able to put his finger on but that he missed so much. He tasted Shouyou’s breathless laughter on his lips when he unbuttoned his linen shirt and pushed it off his shoulders with impatient hands, and he tasted the fresh tangerine of the ambient fragrance on his tongue with every sharp breath he took when Shouyou sucked him off. He tasted Shouyou’s gasps and sighs when he fucked his thighs (because he was too tired and dazed to do anything more elaborate than that).

It was nice, if only a little intense. Even during the come down, when Oikawa was catching his breath with his face buried against Shouyou’s neck, his heart felt like it could beat right out of his chest any moment.

He hasn’t moved an inch from his spot on the bed, but Shouyou crawled out of it already and put on his pair of flashy boxers to rummage through Oikawa’s luggage. They’d only vaguely discussed what to wear to the wedding, so Oikawa brought a few options along just to be safe and not accidentally end up wearing mismatching colors. Now Shouyou’s rummaging through Oikawa’s luggage and putting on all the ties he brought, tying them around his neck and letting them rest on his bare chest. Somehow, he looks both really silly and really sexy.

“Oh right! I forgot you’re also the grand king of glamour and vanity,” Shouyou teases, smirking as he ties another tie - a pale blue one - around his neck with nimble fingers. “How many suitcases would you need to bring all your ties, then?”

Oikawa snorts.

“A whole plane, maybe?” He jokes, and Shouyou chuckles.

“Wow.”

After that, Oikawa shuts his eyes and lets his head sink further into the pillow.

Fuck, he’s tired.

He should go clean himself up because he’s all sorts of disgusting, but he feels like his bones turned into jelly, and Shouyou’s voice talking to him as he dozes off after such a good orgasm is perhaps the nicest, most soothing thing he’s ever heard. It was an intense week in his club; his last week in San Juan before flying to Buenos Aires on Tuesday to train with the national team for the next few months.

After that it’s the Tokyo Olympics, and Oikawa doesn’t think he’ll get to see Shouyou again until then.

Which… kinda sucks.

For as independent and self-sufficient as Oikawa is in his everyday life, it’s shocking how often he finds himself thinking about Shouyou; about sharing his time with Shouyou, about going to different places in San Juan with Shouyou, about eating meals with Shouyou, about going to sleep and waking up next to Shouyou every day.

But what’s even more shocking is how naturally it happened and how easily he accepted it.

How it all went from a frenzied but casual hook-up the second time Oikawa visited Shouyou in Rio years ago, to this, and Oikawa could only sit and watch and think “oh, I guess this is my life now.”

And what this is is them talking to each other daily, sometimes even having sexy conversations or video calls, but mostly just talking about their everydays. Them meeting up whenever they get the chance, which isn’t too often unfortunately, but still seeing each other considerably more often than what Oikawa sees Iwa-chan, or his mom, or his sister. It’s Oikawa feeling more and more intensely with every day that passes, with every time they get to see each other, and with every message he gets from Shouyou, but not knowing if he should do or don’t, go for it or not — and he’s not a coward, he’s everything but a coward, but for some reason this whole thing has him paralyzed on the comfort zone.

He has dated multiple times before, boys and girls, but it was never like this, and he’s not even dating this time.

“Which, personally, I find fucking stupid.”

“Hey,” Oikawa whined at Iwaizumi from behind his dulce de leche ice cream. 

That was last spring, when Iwaizumi, Hanamaki and Matsukawa visited Argentina for a trip to Buenos Aires, his home in San Juan, and the southern city of Bariloche, which was where they were currently at.

Oikawa had the time of his life then, and he even cried without an ounce of shame when he hugged all his best friends in Argentinian soil for the first time since leaving Japan behind. However, once the sentimentality of the occasion dissipated, what remained was his and his friends’ usual relentless mutual teasing, still alive and well even years after graduating.

Except this time  _ they _ had a big thing to tease  _ him _ about.

It wasn’t a secret to them that Oikawa was… involved and emotionally invested in Hinata Shouyou.

They all remembered the little middle blocker from high school because he was one of their worst nightmares during their third year, not to mention Iwaizumi became one of his coaches in the Japanese national team. They all knew him very well, so when Oikawa told them they hooked up after a particularly intense beach volleyball match their groupchat went up in flames.

Iwaizumi has followed the soap opera more closely due to his Best Friends Since Childhood rights, but the three of them seem to agree just as passionately on the following:

“It’s stupid that you aren’t dating yet,” Iwaizumi insisted around a mouthful of alfajor. “It’s still kinda weird to me that it’s him cause, you know, I’m his coach and all, but you’re obviously way more serious about him than you ever were about anyone else, so. Yeah. It’s stupid. Date him.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Oikawa shrugged, pouting a little. “And it’s not… it’s not that simple. You know? We’re both too… ambitious, I would say, and too focused on our careers. The reason we even started doing what we are doing in the first place—“

“—fucking?” Hanamaki interrupted with a smirk, but other than glaring briefly at him, Oikawa paid him no mind

“—is that we both understand volleyball is the most important thing in our lives. If we start dating, it’s like we’re contractually obligated to do certain stuff we just can’t do or don’t care to do, and it’ll fall apart. It’s happened to me before and I’m not interested in going through it again. Experience tells me it’s better to keep things loose and easy so when he goes back to Japan for good he can go back to Tobio-chan, or whoever.”

“There’s no way you’re this bitter, Shittykawa.”

“You’ve seen them, Iwa-chan — you even work with them! You know how they are, even after all these years.”

“What I know is that your inferiority complex rotted your microscopic bird brain. They’re  _ friends _ . For all we know and from all you’ve told us, Hinata might very well be in love with you.”

“But for all  _ I _ know he isn’t and he’s just having a good time with a sexy senpai while he’s on the other side of the world because it’s the convenient and fun thing to do! I don’t know! We don’t exactly talk about things like this.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but Matsukawa cut in before he could say anything.

“Have you considered asking him?” The taller man said, holding his mug of hot chocolate like it was a cocktail. “Literally none of this would be a problem if you, you know, talked about it.”

Oikawa simply looked at him from across the table like he’d grown a second head. 

“No,” he replied like it was obvious. “I mean, I’ve thought about it, but upon further consideration I’ve decided it’s not worth the risk. He’s the closest thing I have to a home here, even if we’re not exactly next door, and it’s not like I’m in love with him, or anything.”

Hanamaki hummed thoughtfully at that.

“You know,” he started, his voice acquiring an uncharacteristically serious edge that demanded attention. “I’ve always found it weird how perfectly you can read and analyze people - not only in the court, but outside of it too -, and yet you can’t seem to figure dating out. You make it sound like it’s this complicated, contractual type of thing, but… it doesn’t have to be like that, you know? Not if it’s the right person. And it sounds to me like the shortie pie could be the right person for you, if you give it a shot.”

That day wasn’t epiphanic, and that conversation was far from the most memorable thing that happened during that trip, but Oikawa remembers it and thinks about it often enough.

The shortie pie could be the right person for you, Makki had said, and his words come back to Oikawa even now, completely unprompted but not entirely unwelcome.

But it’s weird. Liking someone and not knowing what to do about it because he’s never ever wanted to do anything about it with anyone else before is weird. And annoying. Oikawa feels almost powerless and he doesn’t like that one bit.

“Hey,” a warm breath suddenly ghosts against his ear, and it brings him out of his head and back to the real world at once. He becomes aware of Shouyou’s body pressing him down against the mattress in the most comfortable way possible, leaning over him and resting his whole weight over Oikawa’s body like he belongs there.

Oikawa can’t help but smile and hum at the feeling. 

“Hm?”

Shouyou runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. It’s all sweaty and gross but Shouyou doesn’t seem to mind.

“Wanna share a shower?” The younger asks. “You’ll complain all morning if I let you fall asleep all gross like this.”

Oikawa chuckles softly but nods.

“That's a good idea, actually,” he turns his head to look up at Shouyou, and when he does, he meets Shouyou’s bright amber eyes and the sight of them feels like a punch to the stomach. He was going to say something else, something clever and funny, but all words escape him. Shouyou’s face is only a breath away from his, his warm body draped all over Oikawa’s with only a soft blanket in between, and all of Oikawa’s ties are still hanging around his neck, and  _ fuck— _

The realization that he is in love with this man in spite of how hard he’s tried to convince himself he isn’t dawns on him like a ton of bricks.

  
  
  


Oikawa has a theory that everybody who has met Shouyou is in love with him to some degree. Romantic or platonic, it doesn’t matter - what matters is that falling in love with Shouyou in one way or another is inevitable.

He first noticed this many years ago, before graduating high school and moving to Argentina, but it only became more blatant after that, when he was able to spend more time with him and get to know him better.

Wherever he goes, Shouyou seems to charm and disarm people left and right, making them fall to his feet helplessly. The first victim that comes to mind is Tobio because Oikawa saw that and saw  _ them  _ happen with his own eyes on the court, but he knows now that there have been plenty of others who have followed his kouhai’s footsteps. Shouyou himself has told him about Kozume Kenma, the setter from a Tokyo high school who became rich after graduating and has been sponsoring him ever since, even when he was a nobody hitting strangers up for matches in Brazilian beaches, simply because he was “interesting”.

Then, Oikawa’s also heard about Miya Atsumu, another setter. Shouyou has told Oikawa a lot about the time they spent as teammates while playing in Osaka with the MSBY Black Jackals, but Oikawa has also seen that man’s blatant adoration for Shouyou personally and up-close.

Oikawa watches live streams of all of Shouyou’s matches because Shouyou’s matches are always amazing to watch, no matter what team he’s playing for, but there was this one time where Oikawa actually went to one of their games while he was in Japan for a short family visit. 

There, he saw the joy and the faith and the  _ hunger  _ with which Miya set for Shouyou, not at all different from Tobio (or Oikawa himself during the few occasions they’ve played on the same side of the net).

Oikawa would have suspected there was something between them if Shouyou hadn’t told him beforehand that Miya has his own boyfriend back in Hyogo who he loves very much (and if Shouyou hadn’t invited him to his hotel after the game to spend the night together), but in spite of all that Oikawa still felt a little… uneasy about Miya.

And possessive over Shouyou.

_ Jealous _ , almost.

Oikawa has been a witness to how all the teams Shouyou has ever been on - from Karasuno, to the MSBY Black Jackals, and even the  Asas São Paulo and the Japanese Olympic team now - all seem to spin around him the way planets orbit the sun.

He just burns so bright that it’s impossible to look away, and  the effect he has on people is almost magical.  Oikawa doesn’t think he does it on purpose, or that he’s even aware of it, but he has enough evidence to claim there is no one in the world immune to Shouyou, just like there is no one in the world as worthy of love and admiration as Shouyou.

Before the wedding ceremony, Oikawa can see once again just how loved Shouyou is because the two of them are surrounded by Shouyou’s friends and teammates pretty much from the moment they step out of their uber.

Shouyou introduces Oikawa to his teammates formally even though Oikawa’s technically met them before and he’s somewhat familiar with their faces, their names, and their playing styles, not only because Shouyou has told him about them.

The CA San Juan actually played against the Asas a few times during a series of friendly matches with other South American teams in Lima, Peru, last year, so Oikawa got to meet Shouyou’s teammates in person and even exchange a few words with them. The problem was Shouyou and he were so embarrassingly eager to put their hands on each other that they skipped on all the partying and bonding with other teams in order to get to a horizontal surface  _ fast _ , before the adrenaline and the endorphins from the matches had a chance to disappear.

At some point, while Oikawa is talking to a couple of Shouyou’s friends and teammates in a mix of English, Spanish and Portuguese, he catches one of them, the libero (who’s not only a few infuriating centimeters taller than Shouyou but also Oikawa himself), elbowing Shouyou on the ribs, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at him, and even leaning down to whisper something into his ear. Shouyou laughs and punches him on the chest in retaliation, but the tips of his ears flush like he’s embarrassed and Oikawa’s sure, he’s just  _ sure  _ that his friend is teasing him because that’s the exact same thing he himself did to Hanamaki whenever Matsukawa did or said anything back in third year, before the two of them got together.

Something similar happens a few more times before the ceremony even starts, when Shouyou is still introducing him to people, and it’s funny because it isn’t weird or uncomfortable at all.

Quite the opposite.

Why would they be teasing Shouyou about Oikawa being there if there wasn’t a reason for it? Has he been talking about him with his teammates, maybe?

It’s interesting.

Oikawa acts dumb every time he catches someone making wiggly eyes at Shouyou and gesturing towards him with their heads with smirks on their faces, but he has to resist the urge to put his hand on Shouyou’s waist to somehow respond to his friends’ teasing. It’s not very rational of him to want to do that, and it’s honestly very reckless considering the mostly-private nature of their “thing” and the amount of photographers outside the church - because apparently everybody on the guest list is famous -, but he manages to keep himself in check.

In the middle of the ceremony something unexpected happens.

They have to sit through a long mass, which is fun only during the first six minutes, and only because Oikawa can entertain himself by admiring the dramatic architecture of the church and the pretty decorations and the wedding dress of the bride for so long. After that, it’s pretty boring and Oikawa has no clue of what to do to entertain himself, when to stand up and when to sit down because he’s not exactly familiar with masses, and then, to top it off, Shouyou starts bouncing his leg next to him.

And it’s kind of cute, Shouyou getting bored and fidgety like this, but it’s also distracting, even if Oikawa’s only feigning concentration on the ceremony. Shouyou has beautiful, beautiful thighs, and they look even more beautiful in the tight-fitting suit he’s currently wearing, but that’s no good right now because his leg keeps bumping against Oikawa’s with every bounce, so he’s even more distracting to Oikawa than usual.

Oikawa looks down at Shouyou’s leg, then at Shouyou’s face, and he discovers with just one look that he’s bored to death.

He’s so beautiful,  _ fuck _ .

“Hey,” Oikawa whispers to him, the priest’s voice speaking grandiose words about how perfect the couple before the altar is for each other in the background. Shouyou looks up at Oikawa at once, humming questioningly in response, and for a second Oikawa is almost taken back by how good he looks like this, in a suit and under the mystic lighting of tinted glasses and candles. When he recovers, he puts his hand on top of Shouyou’s leg briefly to bring attention to his bouncing leg.

“Oh,” Shouyou whispers back, smiling sheepishly and stopping his leg from moving. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Oikawa reassures him, smiling in return because, fuck it, he can’t help it, Shouyou makes him smile. Then, before he can move his hand away completely, Shouyou takes it in his, nevermind that there is an old Brazilian lady sitting right next to them, and he places it on top of his leg again.

“Leave it,” he says, keeping his own hand there as well, trapping Oikawa’s hand between his leg and his palm. “Or I’ll keep doing it,” he explains, and who is Oikawa to say no?

“Alright,” he replies quietly.

They stay like that for the rest of the ceremony, hand in hand, regardless of the people around them.

  
  
  


It becomes even more evident that this wedding is a celebrity wedding when they get to the reception.

They have to take another uber after the ceremony, this time to a giant old house by a cliff side on the city outskirts especially decorated for the occasion.

There is a huge white tent set up on the garden, a dance floor with several dozens of tables around it, and flowers and fairy lights hanging around everywhere, and Oikawa knows they will look magical in a couple hours, after the sun has set behind the mountains. It’s even more crowded here than it was at the church, the guests in the couple of hundreds at the very least, with lots of photographers going around taking pictures of everything and everybody, and multiple waiters and waitresses carrying trays with colorful cocktail food and drinks.

It’s almost overwhelmingly pretty and elegant, but it’s somehow also fun and casual at the same time with loud party music coming from speakers everywhere, huge chalkboards at the entrance with funny (and some obscene) drawings and messages from the guests to the newlywed couple, and party photo booths here and there.

Sadly, they don’t hold hands.

Oikawa wants to, kinda.

He got used to it when they were at the church, and then when they took the uber to get here, but he understands it’s probably not the best idea right now. There’s way too many people, too many photographers, and to everybody’s eyes they are only here as old friends and rivals, no matter how much Shouyou’s friends teased him about Oikawa being there (if they  _ were _ teasing him and it wasn’t just Oikawa’s head making things up). Holding hands in public isn’t something old friends and rivals do.

Also, Shouyou’s holding a couple of little sandwiches in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other, so it’s not like they could hold hands even if Shouyou wanted to as well.

He's talking to a random middle aged woman about something, Oikawa isn’t very sure what because there’s loud music playing and Shouyou’s Portuguese is fast and fluent now, so he can’t really process what he’s saying. Also, Oikawa doesn’t have a clue who she is, and he’s pretty sure Shouyou doesn’t know her either, but still Shouyou talks to her cheerfully and energetically like they’re best friends, the way he talks to most people even if they’re strangers.

He laughs tilting his head back, the late afternoon sun bouncing off his tan skin and dyeing it gold. His hair is short but fluffy, and it’s obvious he tried to tame it for the occasion but wasn’t very successful. He looks beautiful and elegant in his black suit, but also extremely sexy, his muscles evident under the fabric where he’s flexing his arm to hold onto his little sandwiches, and god—

“Com licença,” someone says as they pass behind Oikawa. It’s pretty crowded, guests and waiters and waitresses standing and walking around tall cocktail tables, so Oikawa moves to press himself closer to the table and to Shouyou to give the person behind him more room. In the process, not too consciously if he’s honest, he puts a hand on Shouyou’s lower back, near his waist. Maybe it’s the same magnetism that had his hands tingling with need to touch Shouyou after landing in Rio yesterday.

“Oops,” he says, all pressed up against Shouyou’s side while a group of people walks behind them. “Sorry,” he tells him, but he doesn’t move his hand away.

Then, Shouyou looks up at him. He’s in the middle of chewing what’s left of his second sandwich, so his cheeks are hilariously full for a moment before he swallows and beams at him.

“What for?” He asks, gesturing behind him with his head signaling Oikawa’s arm. “That? I don’t mind.”

And, well, of course he doesn’t mind. He literally woke up in Oikawa’s arms. But while they had lunch on the terrace of the hotel just a few hours ago they agreed on keeping all touches to the minimum during the wedding, just in case. They weren’t strictly prohibited or anything, but the rule they applied was the “don’t do anything you wouldn’t do with your best friend in public” — a kinda stupid rule, honestly, considering Oikawa’s best friend is Iwa-chan and Shouyou’s best friend is Tobio and they both had something going on with them during their high school years, but. Whatever. Ignoring that bit, it was meant to work just fine.

It’s great Shouyou doesn’t mind, but does that mean he would be okay with Tobio holding his waist like this in public?

Oikawa can’t help but tighten his hold around Shouyou’s midsection at the thought, his hand slipping to fully hold Shouyou’s waist and hold him a little closer.

“And this?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow down at him when he sees him gasp quietly.

“I don’t mind either,” he replies, recovering quickly from the surprise and fixing him with a smirk before he takes a sip from his champagne, his eyes never leaving Oikawa’s. And it’s funny because just a few hours ago Shouyou was setting the ground rules for tonight, but now here he is, flirting with him like they aren’t surrounded by people.

Oikawa returns his flirty gaze with one of his own before looking away to take his own glass from the table and take a sip. He’s in the middle of drinking when the woman across from them, the one who was chatting with Shouyou just now, asks Shouyou a question, her voice loud so he can hear it over the music.

Now, Oikawa knows enough Spanish that he knows a little Portuguese too, even if he can’t really speak it. Both languages are similar in many ways and have thousands of words in common, which can be extremely convenient at times like this. He’s sure the woman said the word  _ namorado _ , which sounds just like the word  _ enamorado  _ which means  _ in love  _ in Spanish (his traitorous heart gives a little flip at that). However, he also happens to know the word  _ namorado _ means  _ boyfriend  _ in Portuguese and not something abstract like it does in Spanish, so he can easily guess what the woman is asking.

_ Is he your boyfriend? _

“O qué?” Shouyou gasps in shock and amusement at the question, and he looks like he’s about to burst out in nervous laughter, but the woman waits patiently for his answer because, obviously, hers was an honest question, and when Shouyou realizes that he sobers up.

Oikawa’s hand, of course, is still on his waist.

“Oh, uhhh,” Shouyou hesitates, looking up at Oikawa with a weird look on his face. A look that says ‘help, what do I do, this wasn’t supposed to happen, what do I tell her?’

And the decision is a difficult one because, well, they aren’t  _ namorados _ . Not really.

Even if Oikawa is  _ enamorado _ now (and probably has been for a while), he’s never told Shouyou that, and he doesn’t know how Shouyou feels. But that aside, even if Shouyou did return his feelings (which, truthfully, Oikawa kinda suspects he does but wouldn’t bet his life on it either), there’s the problem of their lifestyles. Emotionality aside, Oikawa thinks this is the main reason neither he nor Shouyou have ever tried pursuing something long-term, either with somebody else or with each other.

Their lives are complicated, unsteady, and hectic, to put it simply. Oikawa splits his time between San Juan and Buenos Aires, while also traveling to Japan to see his family and friends when he can, and going wherever tournaments take him and his team. Shouyou is the same, except he splits his time between Brazil and Japan. That kind of life doesn’t go well with everything that comes with dating someone for real when you’re nearly thirty years old, does it? There’s nothing stable about them, so why go through the bother of making this official if it has no future at least until they retire?

Sharing their time and their bodies when they can, the way friends with benefits do, but without denying that they do like each other and they do want to be around each other has worked for them long enough.

It gives them enough freedom that when the time comes, they will both be able to fly wherever they want. Whether Shouyou’s place is back in Japan or here in South America with him is still a mystery, and Oikawa wouldn’t feel right if Shouyou kept himself grounded because of him, or if what they have were to end sourly.

Still, he can’t help it.

The lady thinks they’re together? That’s not a bad thing. It’s actually pretty funny, Oikawa thinks, in the same way Shouyou’s teammates wiggling their eyebrows at Shouyou when he introduced Oikawa to them is funny. 

It makes Oikawa feel smug for some reason. It makes him want to hold Shouyou’s hand in a church and squeeze his waist in public and maybe even kiss him, too. Maybe later, when the DJ plays the reggaeton songs he’s grown to love, they’ll dance together, and it’ll be a dirty and fun dance, where Oikawa will put his hands on Shouyou’s ass and Shouyou will shove his tongue down Oikawa’s throat and no one will bat an eye at them. No one will question it because, the way they see it, they are  _ namorados _ ,  _ enamorados _ , and this is a wedding party, so they’re allowed to go a little wild.

He doesn’t get to say anything to Shouyou before he makes a decision, though, after only looking him in the eye for a split second.

Before Oikawa knows it, Shouyou’s right hand is on his chest (when did he get rid of his glass of champagne?), and the other is on his shoulder, and his mouth is saying  _ sim _ .

Yes, they are together.

_ Namorados _ .

  
  
  


“So, we’re changing plans?” Oikawa asks later, after the unknown woman has moved on to talk to someone else.

He stopped being all pressed up against Shouyou but only because a waitress brought along new drinks and they had to peel themselves off each other to take them, but their arms are still bumping together.

“It’s probably the best thing,” Shouyou explains before eyeing Oikawa with a little smirk. “Since I’m obviously too hot for you to keep your hands to yourself…”

Oikawa smirks right back at him, but the tips of his ears flush because, shit, Shouyou can see right through him and it’s a little embarrassing how weak he is when it comes to him.

“Don’t get too cocky,” he replies as nonchalantly as possible. “It’s the suit. I’m used to seeing you all sweaty and gross from volleyball; all this elegance does things to a man, you know?”

Shouyou chuckles at that.

“Well, in that case, I think I’ll start wearing suits more often,” he says before elbowing Oikawa on the side. “And so should you, so we’re fair.”

“Hmm, maybe I will,” Oikawa takes a sip from his champagne before he leans closer to whisper into Shouyou’s ear. “I gotta keep my boyfriend happy, right?”

He feels Shouyou shiver against his lips, but he’s taken by surprise when he turns to face him, amber eyes sparkling under the fairy lights that are already glowing all around them.

Then, Shouyou kisses him. He stands on the tips of his toes and leans in and up slowly, as if giving Oikawa the chance to pull away. Oikawa doesn’t pull away, obviously, so Shouyou kisses him lightly in the middle of the party. It’s chaste and soft, but it makes something flutter in Oikawa’s gut all the same.

“You’re doing a good job so far,” Shouyou says, and Oikawa can’t stop himself from smiling.

“Thank you.”

A few moments go by after that. It’s not quiet by any means, the sounds of the loud party going on around them, with voices and the bass of the music pounding in Oikawa’s bones, but it feels strangely peaceful and serene between him and Shouyou.

He doesn’t know how many seconds pass before Shouyou breaks the noise.

“So, you’re okay with this?” He asks, his voice almost hesitant in a way that is so unlike him. He even looks unsure when Oikawa glances at him and it’s an unfamiliar sight. “I mean, saying we’re together if, you know, if anyone asks. So that we don’t have to hold back on anything we want to do,” he explains, but then he rushes to add. “It doesn’t have to be for real, obviously! And we still should avoid photographers, just in case. I just… I just think simply saying we’re together if someone were to point it out would save us from having to give explanations. I don’t wanna give explanations; I just wanna have fun and not worry if what I do or what you do is too much. I don’t wanna have to overthink everything.” 

Oikawa nods.

“It’s okay, I get it.”

And he does, kind of. He sees how it can be convenient because he’s been through the process of explaining the logistics of his relationship with Shouyou to other people before and he knows how complicated it can be if they want to get an honest answer.

Simply saying “yeah, we’re dating” is way easier, especially if it’s only for a night, and only just in case, if someone gets nosy. It doesn’t matter that it isn’t strictly true. They shouldn’t have to give explanations to anyone to begin with, even if he knows people can be nosy and Shouyou and he have a tendency to seek each other out with their hands and their mouths, but that’s none of anyone’s business.

(It’s not even any of his and Shouyou’s business, it seems, considering the stellar job they’ve done keeping any conversation about their relationship locked up in a closet, but that’s another story.)

“And don’t worry. If anyone asks, I can just tell them we broke up after this,” Shouyou says, deadpan, and Oikawa gasps in faux shock. He even brings a hand to his chest, his mind thankfully stirring away from uncomfortably intense, romantic, and selfish thoughts.

“Ouch, Shouyou-kun, you’re breaking up with me already and we haven’t even been together for ten minutes? I’m wounded!”

Shouyou laughs, bright and loud, before he gets back in character.

“I’m sorry,” he says, playing along easily. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

“Ah, of course it is,” Oikawa mock-laments, causing Shouyou to laugh again, breaking out of character again.

Then, just to try and see how it feels, Oikawa lets his free hand wander towards Shouyou’s over the table, curious and honestly a little thrilled at the fact that he’s allowed to do this, at least for tonight. Shouyou lets him, and he even brushes the sides of his fingers with his own.

“So, then, Shouyou-kun…” Oikawa starts, and Shouyou hums curiously, looking up at him, their fingers linking together loosely. “If we’re only gonna date for the night… can I get another kiss, right here, before you ditch me tomorrow and we never see each other again?”

Shouyou snorts, but he nods.

“Of course. Come here, Grand King.”

So Shouyou kisses him again, over empty glasses of champagne and their linked hands.

Then, he kisses him again, later, before they sit down at a table with all of Shouyou’s teammates and their partners sans the groom and bride to have dinner. Oikawa pushed Shouyou’s chair back in an over-the-top gesture of gentlemanliness and Shouyou kissed him on the cheek in an equally over-the-top gesture of appreciation. It all had one of Shouyou’s friends (the same unfairly tall libero from before) whistling at them and patting Shouyou in the back effusively.

Then, during dinner, Shouyou keeps his hand on Oikawa’s thigh. It’s not all the time, but he does it often enough that it’s obvious he wants to have it there.

Oikawa plays with his fingers while his other hand plays with the stem of the large glass of wine they poured him for dinner. Everybody, Shouyou included, is talking about something animatedly, loudly, and at some point the groom comes along and it gets even more loud and fun. They even do a chant they do before games, but Shouyou keeps their hands connected even through that mess and it’s nice.

It’s intoxicating, forgetting about everything.

Oikawa started off not entirely convinced that this was a good idea because he can’t trust himself to be able to go back to normal afterwards; to the reality where they can’t kiss or hug in public because it would hit the news, the reality where they barely get to see each other because of their intense schedules, and where they both act equally as shameless but also equally as careful around each other to preserve the balance they have forged so carefully since their ‘thing’ started.

But Oikawa gives in, little by little, his apprehensions melting easily because Shouyou’s affection is irresistibly warm and powerful. It’s impossible to say no to him, impossible not to give in to him, and it doesn’t even matter that they’re surrounded by hundreds of strangers.

Shouyou charms him and disarms him like he does to everybody else, and Oikawa’s only human. Also, he’s drinking, and he doesn’t usually drink. Neither does Shouyou, given their strict diets, so it’s to be expected that common sense evaporates from their blood  _ fast _ as it gets replaced by champagne bubbles and by the unexpected adrenaline that comes with flirting and kissing and touching in public for the first time since— since forever, actually.

Shouyou gets enthusiastic fast, to the point where he forgets his own advice about avoiding photographers when he cuddles Oikawa against the dessert table with a wedding photographer standing nearby.

He wraps his arm around Oikawa’s back, but he does it underneath his jacket. He’s clingy, like he slipped and fell headfirst into this role of  _ namorado _ , but who is Oikawa to push him away when he’s enjoying himself so much?

He can almost picture the headlines in the sports news of Brazilian and Argentinian and Japanese magazines and newspapers — the scandal of the Argentinian starting setter and one of the stars of the Japanese national team making out and leaving together at a social event in Rio de Janeiro —, but he’s a little tipsy, and so is Shouyou, so when the younger cups his cheek and pulls him down to kiss him with lips that taste like brigadeiro and tells him “ _ quer dançar? _ ”, Oikawa can’t say  _ sí _ fast enough.

The party goes by in a whirl like this, but it all gets even blurrier around the edges when they get to the dance floor.

“Is it my idea or is it even more crowded now than it was at the beginning?” Shouyou asks him, turning to walk backwards to a place in the crowd where they can dance. He still looks flawless, perfect in his black suit, but there’s a small stain of chocolate near his chin that Oikawa’s brain is screaming for him to lick off already, trace and melt with his tongue before going down the tan column of his neck.

“It feels like it. Honestly, it doesn’t even feel like a wedding,” Oikawa answers, keeping his dirty thoughts to himself (for now). “I’d think we’re in a club if it weren’t for the children and the old people and the decoration,” he adds, and Shouyou laughs bright and loud. It’s dark now, but there’s fairy lights and colorful club lights and a disco ball over their heads, the music loud and wild, but the pounding of his heart rivals the booming of the bass when Shouyou pulls him close by his tie.

They got rid of their jackets a while ago, left them at the chairs around their dinner table when it started getting uncomfortably hot under the enormous tent, so when their chests crash together, it’s only with their shirts and ties between them. It feels warm, Shouyou’s chest is solid, and so are his thighs, and his abdomen, and his back, and  _ ugh _ . His whole body is glorious, and it’s getting Oikawa drunk faster than the wine and champagne he had before.

“God,” he gasps, screws his eyes shut to let himself enjoy the feeling of Shouyou’s body pressed up against his, and allows his hands to wander a little bit and feel the warmth of Shouyou’s sides before settling them on the curve of Shouyou’s waist. He’s holding him tight,  _ close _ , but he knows they could get so much closer than this, so it’s hardly enough.

“Come on,” Shouyou tells him, guiding him — because that’s another thing about Shouyou. He’s the one who guides. He might be like the sun, pulling everybody towards him with his irresistible gravitational field, but he’s not static, sitting idly at the center. He’s constantly moving, always evolving, always learning, and he’s always challenging others to move, to evolve, and to learn along with him.

Oikawa also realized this a long time ago, that day Tobio came to him one day to ask him for advice because Shouyou was moving forward and leaving him behind regardless of the disparity of their skills back then.

So Oikawa lets himself be guided for a moment, lets Shouyou set the pace with his hips and his feet, and he follows along with ease. They’ve danced together before, also in Rio, at a little gay club back when neither of them were stars yet. They only went there a couple of times, but it’s easy to fall into step with Shouyou. Oikawa feels like he was born to learn how to synchronize his rhythm to that of others to make them shine the brightest, and it’s no different when it comes to dancing, and it’s no different when it comes to Shouyou.

He lets Shouyou guide him, but then he takes Shouyou’s hands, pulls him closer to himself, and he spins him around so that his back is against his chest. And that’s when he guides and Shouyou follows, moving his hips the way he learnt to in this side of the world. Oikawa rubs his nose against the side of Shouyou’s jaw, then, unable to resist when Shouyou rests his head against his shoulder. He smells like perfume and sunscreen, because he always smells like sunscreen for some reason, but when Oikawa kisses his neck, his lips don’t come off tacky and sticky, but humid with sweat.

Shouyou sighs, melts like putty in Oikawa’s hold, and Oikawa wants this, always.

He wants Shouyou, always.

It’s frustrating to know that no matter what happens tonight, they won’t get to be close like this, like lips on skin, like hands on hands, like hips on hips and lips on lips, for months. Shouyou is gonna go back to Japan to train with the national team while Oikawa will be doing the same thing, only eighteen thousand kilometers away and twelve hours behind, with a different national team.

And Oikawa knows he’s screwed because he’s got Shouyou right here in his arms, on his lips, and they’re going all out in public like never before, but he already misses him.

“Shouyou-kun,” he speaks into Shouyou’s ear, quiet and dizzy and a little breathless under a loud reggaeton beat. “Can I get another kiss?”

Shouyou hums, but it’s inaudible over the music. Rather than hear it, Oikawa feels Shouyou’s rib cage vibrating against his chest.

“You’re keeping a collection of those or something, Oikawa-senpai? Haven't you had enough?” He asks, tilting his head to speak against the side of Oikawa’s face, near his ear but not quite.

“No,” Oikawa replies. “In fact, I think I deserve one for every day between today and the Olympics, at least.”

Shouyou’s chest vibrates again, this time with laughter, but he turns around in Oikawa’s arms.

“Fine,” he says, but Oikawa barely listens. He’s far too busy looking at him, admiring the way he looks through the warm and hazy mist that has settled in his brain. Shouyou is flushed and sweaty and happy, his smile bright, his pupils blown, and his shirt and tie all wrinkly and messy after dancing.

It feels as though time has slowed down; like it has turned into something thick like caramel or dulce de leche that Oikawa can barely process as he and Shouyou come together again. The background is a blur of lights and shadows that frames Shouyou like a messy watercolor that sometimes bleeds onto him - a blue light here, a pink light there, a yellow light to his face -, and it’s almost fascinating. Shouyou looks perfect, but there’s still a stain of chocolate on his chin, so before their lips can collide, Oikawa cups Shouyou by the jaw and tilts his head up so he can lick the offending sweetness off his skin when he moves closer.

Shouyou lets out a muted gasp as his hands curl around Oikawa’s shirt to later move to his sides.

“Tooru,” he hisses, forgoing formalities when Oikawa stays there even after licking the chocolate off, moving downwards instead of upwards to press wet kisses to his neck.

Shouyou’s arms hug Oikawa tighter, his hands looking for purchase on Oikawa’s shoulder blades and his hips unconsciously seeking Oikawa’s own, not necessarily looking for friction yet, but maybe just closeness. Still, it feels good to Oikawa, who rocks his hips right against Shouyou’s as he kisses his neck, but it doesn’t last much longer.

One of Shouyou’s hands travels all the way up to Oikawa’s hair, and after grabbing a handful of it, he pulls him backwards so he can seal their mouths together in a heated kiss.

This time it’s Oikawa who gasps and groans, both at the hand on his hair and at the sweet tongue licking easily into his mouth. There’s no resistance whatsoever. Oikawa simply lets Shouyou kiss him thoroughly, hungrily, and all he can do is move his hands from where they were waiting on Shouyou’s chest to cup the younger’s face to keep him there.

He’s not sure who realizes first that this is terribly improper.

All he knows is he suddenly says, “we can’t do this here”, heated but embarrassed against Shoyo’s mouth.

Shouyou chuckles, just as heated and embarrassed, but his answer isn’t  _ you’re right _ , or  _ let’s stop _ , or  _ let’s get a glass of water to cool down _ .

What he says instead is, “let's find somewhere where we can.”

And Oikawa hasn’t heard a better idea in his entire life.

So, they step out of the dance floor together, and they step out of the tented area together, but rather than going into the house, where there are bathrooms and broom closets and whatnot, they head in the opposite direction, down the trail that leads to a private beach.

It’s a rocky beach, not very good for swimming, but it’s pretty and, most importantly, it’s completely empty, its sandy areas immaculate and soft, glowing under the moonlight.

“Take off your shoes,” Shouyou says when they reach the beginning of the beach, already halfway through removing his own shoes. “I’ll race you.”

Oikawa laughs, but he does just that.

“Where to?” He asks, and Shouyou points to a bunch of rocks of all sizes on the furthest end of the small beach.

So they run there, their shoes, both of them elegant and expensive pairs, abandoned with their socks inside of them at the beginning of the beach where the garden trail ends. They don’t matter right now. All that matters is the sea breeze blowing and messing up Oikawa’s carefully styled hair, the sand giving in under his bare feet, and the sound of the waves devouring the echoes of party music that manage to reach down here.

All that matters is chasing Shouyou, catching that lightning bolt of a man before he gets to the finish point, and finding out exactly what it is he wants to do to him here.

Shouyou screams when Oikawa catches him, wrapping his arms around his middle and cutting their race short.

“Hey! That’s cheating!”

“You had a head start!” Oikawa retorts, laughing as Shouyou struggles without much energy and ultimately gives in.

“I was winning fair and square, you’re just a sore loser,” Shouyou accuses, even as he turns around in Oikawa’s arms, sinking a little further in the sand and losing a few centimeters in the process.

“Yes I am. You’ve only just noticed, chibi-chan?” Oikawa asks, flicking Shouyou’s nose lightly with his finger and moving closer to him so their bodies are flush against each other again.

Shouyou wrinkles his nose but smiles.

“Well, I guess that makes two of us…” he says before wrapping his arms around Oikawa’s neck.

“True,” Oikawa smiles back down at Shouyou. “So… are we going to continue where we left off or did you only drag me out here to play in the sand?”

Shouyou snorts.

“I mean, if you think about it, I did bring you out here to play in the sand, just in a different way…” he says, tangling his fingers in Oikawa’s hair and looking up at him with eyes that are somehow bright and dark at the same time, sparkly and pretty, but full of hunger. He licks his lips while looking straight at him, and Oikawa is so entranced by him that he can’t even think of something smart to say in reply.

So he doesn’t say anything and simply captures Shouyou’s lips instead, captures his tongue before it’s even back in his mouth, and captures his body with a tight grip to make sure he keeps him as close to himself as he can.

Shouyou sighs into his mouth and this time he can not only feel it, but also hear it. The waves are calm, the party going on in the distance, so the sound of Shouyou’s happy sigh fills the air just like it fills Oikawa’s lungs. The kiss is deep and desperate, like no time passed between the dance floor and now, even if the loud music and the bright colors are gone and replaced by the gentle crashing of waves, their unsteady breathing, and the wet sounds of their kissing. It was too much then and it is too much now, because now Shouyou lets his hands roam his body for real, with the intention of riling him up.

Shouyou traces the lines of Oikawa’s back through the fabric of his shirt, runs his hands over his sides, and squeezes his waist before touching all the way up his abdomen and his chest, and it all makes Oikawa dizzy. Dizzier than alcohol. He keeps his own hands on Shouyou’s lower back and strokes and massages his waist, but then he gets more daring and moves his hands lower, lower, until he grabs Shouyou’s ass.

And honestly, he’s been dreaming about doing this since he saw Shouyou squeezing into these pants back at the hotel. Shouyou groans at the feeling and it makes Oikawa stir in his pants, right against Shouyou’s own hips.

“Fuck, Shouyou, you’re so hot,” the words escape him before he can even think about them.

“You really like me that much when I’m in a suit, huh,” The younger comments, out of breath but still playful, pawing at Oikawa’s chest and fumbling with his tie.

Oikawa frowns a little.

“I mean, I do. But it’s not just that. It’s… all of you. All the time.”

Shouyou hums, pleased and warm and  _ happy _ , beaming when he presses his face to the base of Oikawa’s neck.

“I know, I’m playing,” he says before kissing Oikawa’s neck, his fingers now toying with the buttons of his shirt. “I… I want you, too, you know? All of you. All the time. But shit, I really want to get you naked right now.”

Oikawa chuckles breathlessly at that, but his gut burns with anticipation. He’s so full of adoration of fondness and arousal right now, he thinks he will explode if Shouyou keeps on saying pretty and sexy things. But,  _ fuck _ , he wants the same thing. He needs Shouyou naked, needs to feel him on his skin. It’s been less than twenty four hours since the last time, but that’s eons for them, considering how little time they get to spend physically together.

He pulls Shouyou closer, squeezes his butt through his pants, and for a second, he considers the idea of ditching the party to go back to their hotel to have sex with Shouyou until the break of dawn.

“The beach was probably not the best place to take this to, then. There’s sand everywhere.”

“There are rocks, too.”

“That’s not very sexy, Shouyou.”

Sexily, Shouyou undoes the first button from the top on Oikawa’s shirt.

“I know, but it was either here or the restroom, which I would be okay with if there weren’t kids in this party who could walk in any moment and make me feel like I’m committing a crime. Kids won’t come down here.”

“... You have a point. Although I’m pretty sure having sex on a beach is also a crime.”

“Maybe. But it’s private property, so I don’t think it is? But, who cares? Nothing’s a crime if you don’t get caught, right?” Shouyou smirks playfully, popping open Oikawa’s second button from the top now, and Oikawa doesn’t have the mind or the heart or enough blood in his brain to argue.

Once again, he lets Shouyou lead.

They kiss again, they just can’t get enough of kissing, it seems, and it takes them to the rocky area in the beach. It’s the heat of their kisses that makes them subconsciously seek for a place to lay down or press up against each other to get closer, closer, as close as they possibly can. There’s not much to choose from, but there’s a large stone that shields them from sight from plenty of angles, and that’s probably the best they’re going to get. Oikawa finds the rock is dry and the sand is warm enough when they get on the ground, Shouyou on top of him, straddling his hips and keeping him trapped between his body and the smooth side of a rock.

“If I get sand in my ass you’re a dead man,” he warns only half-jokingly as Shouyou pushes open half of his shirt. He didn’t unbutton it all the way through; just enough to expose his chest and the top of his abdomen, but it seems to be enough for him.

“It washes away,” he says, waving Oikawa off as he runs his hands over his body feeling him up simply for the sake of feeling him up. There are a few grains of sand on his palms, but they’re warm and feel amazing on Oikawa’s skin, his fingers tracing every line and curve and stopping on his nipples to rub them teasingly. That’s when he adds, “live a little.”

Oikawa gasps and groans quietly at the feeling, but he also huffs out a little chuckle, almost resenting Shouyou for going after such a sensitive area so quickly.

He decides not to say anything else. Shouyou wants him to live a little? He’ll live a little.

He’ll let himself go and succumb to this because it’s not like they haven’t had slightly sandy sex before.

(They weren’t dressed in expensive designer suits then, but the one he’s wearing now was literally a present from the brand he’s a model for in Argentina, and he’ll surely get a new one on the next photoshoot, so he doesn’t mind ruining it too much.)

All that matters now is Shouyou.

Kissing Shouyou, touching Shouyou, and getting Shouyou in a similar state of undress as himself without actually undressing him.

He removes his tie, pushes his shirt open so their chests are flush against each other’s, and brings a hand down Shouyou’s body to his crotch, to tease him through his pants. 

And Shouyou is as responsive as always. He gasps loudly, hisses a curse, and bucks his hips against Oikawa’s hand at once to get more of the feeling. Pleasure looks great on him, Oikawa has long since known, but knowing that it’s he and only he who is taking him to those heights and making him make those sounds is its own kind of amazing.

It fuels him like nothing else, knowing he sets Shouyou’s skin on fire.

He’s palming Shouyou through his trousers, and kissing his mouth, his neck, his chest, and everywhere he can reach, and Shouyou’s crashing back onto him like the waves not too far away from them. It’s hectic and hot, hot all over - Shouyou’s mouth, Shouyou’s hands, Shouyou’s fingers curling in his hair and Shouyou’s hips grounding down against his own.

Oikawa needs to get his mouth on him.

Still touching him, even if through his pants, he kisses his way from Shouyou’s mouth, to his jaw, to his ear.

“Shouyou,” he whispers once he gets there, “Can I suck you off?”

He moves back a little to see and hear Shouyou’s response, which is a wide-eyed nod with parted, kiss-swollen lips. He swallows thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing, before he says, “fuck, yes,  _ please _ .”

Oikawa almost laughs at his enthusiasm, though it would be unfair given how enthusiastic he himself is about this. All of this. Sucking Shouyou off in the private beach of a big old house dressed up as a wedding venue, about Shouyou shamelessly acting like his boyfriend all night and doing a spectacular job about it, about finally spending time with Shouyou after going months without seeing him.

He’s happy. Shouyou might make him do weird stuff sometimes, but more than anything he makes him happy, and maybe that happiness he brings him is worth everything else.

They switch positions.

Shouyou ends up against the rock with Oikawa over him, knees half buried in the sand as he keeps on kissing him. The thought that he could kiss Shouyou forever used to be scary the first times it popped up in his brain, but now it’s like second nature. He really could kiss Shouyou forever. He loves kissing him, loves the way he tastes, the way he feels against him, the way he kisses back with passion and energy, and the way his hands always go to his hair.

But he cuts the kissing short, makes a promise to himself that they will resume it later, when they finally get back to the hotel and are free to go as far as they want, and he finally goes down, down on Shouyou’s body.

He doesn’t want to get on all fours on the sand because that would feel undignified, so he lies down next to Shouyou’s thighs instead, propping his upper body up with his elbows.

“We’re gonna need a good reason as to why we’re all wet and covered in sand and smell like the ocean,” he says as he finally, carefully, untucks Shouyou from his boxers. He pushed his trousers down a little, but his underwear stays on because, well, there  _ is  _ sand everywhere.

Shouyou’s hand is still on Oikawa’s hair, because of course it is. He knows very well how Oikawa likes it when he plays with his hair, so he strokes it, pets it, caresses it, and tugs on it, depending on the occasion. Sometimes, often times, he pulls on it to make Oikawa come faster when they have sex. It’s a powerful weapon he discovered by accident one night, but Oikawa trusts him with it wholeheartedly.

“Hmm, we can say we fell in the ocean,” Shouyou offers, playing with Oikawa’s curls absentmindedly, his mind probably more concentrated in how the setter is starting to jerk his cock to full hardness with his spit-slick palm. “We, uhh… We were sitting by the rocks, right? And slipped. And fell. That’s… believable, right?”

Oikawa chuckles quietly, loving how into it Shouyou is already.

“Not at all. I mean, maybe a little, but nobody’s gonna buy it.”

“Well, then, let them believe whatever they want. Now, hurry, please, Oika-senpai — some boyfriend you are, teasing me like this.”

“I’m on it, I’m on it, jeez -”, Oikawa almost laughs, but he focuses on the task at hand, stroking Shouyou carefully to spread the scarce slickness of his saliva and make it feel better for him. Then, he licks him, teases him a little with his tongue, and he finds he still smells a little like soap from his early afternoon shower. “How demanding.”

A sharp, loud sound that sounds like an impatient but pleasured whine escapes Shouyou’s lips, and after pressing another few teasing kisses and kitten licks to Shouyou, Oikawa resolves to put his mouth to work for real.

And it’s a good thing they came out here.

Between the waves and the distant party music there’s enough noise that Shouyou can make as many sounds as he wants, but also enough quietness that they would be able to tell if someone approached.

Because Shouyou is loud, and responsive, and unashamed of his pleasure. He’s beautiful, and Oikawa wants to devour him, to feel him completely, from the inside out, and to leave him exhausted from all the pleasure he wants to give him.

For now he only has his mouth and hand, but he’s pretty good with them. Oikawa is a master at finding out the strongest points and the weaknesses of others and exploiting them to his benefit, and that isn’t limited to volleyball. He takes Shouyou into his mouth, and he lets his world zero in on him.

Everything becomes Shouyou.

Shouyou’s scent and Shouyou’s taste as he takes him deeper in his mouth; Shouyou’s sounds, his voice letting out incoherent noises and sighs and little words of encouragement or instructions; the feeling of Shouyou below him, inside of him, and on his hair - just Shouyou, everywhere and everything.

“Tooru,” he calls him, uses his first name every time he gets too riled up. It’s a good sign.

“You’re so good, you look so sexy like this,” he tells Oikawa, raw and honest, as transparent as he is in every other aspect of life.

“Like that - yeah, yeah, keep doing that,  _ shit _ , Tooru -” he encourages, his voice escalating in urgency and volume after the stimulation gets to be too much. Oikawa knows just how to take him there; knows when to go deeper and when to retreat and go shallow, when to tease and when to indulge, and all this wisdom has Shouyou’s thighs shaking and his fingers curling and gripping tightly onto his hair.

It even has him groaning, hard in his own trousers simply because Shouyou’s pleasure is contagious.

(And because he’s pulling his hair and moaning and squirming and just melting irresistibly under his tongue.)

When Shouyou comes, which he warns repeatedly with tugs to Oikawa’s curls and with his voice, Oikawa doesn’t pull away. He simply jerks him to completion, the head of his cock on his tongue, and he makes sure to look up at him when he comes. Pleasure washes over Shouyou’s body visibly, his face scrunching up like he’s concentrated on something of vital importance, and his voice gets lost and quiet, suspended in the air in the middle of a sound of ecstasy.

But he recovers quickly, too, because his stamina is ridiculous not only when it comes to volleyball.

Oikawa has barely swallowed half of his cum, spat out the other half on the sand because there’s only so much he can swallow, when Shouyou pulls him up to demand kisses. To demand closeness. He cups Oikawa’s cheeks and kisses him deeply, uncaring if he tastes like the most intimate parts of him, and Oikawa returns the kisses eagerly. He’s still hard, almost painfully so, so he takes the opportunity of getting on his knees again to straddle Shouyou’s thigh and give himself the relief he needs so badly.

He rocks his hips down against Shouyou’s solid thighs and he groans, lets his own volume be loud too because there’s nothing and no one around them stopping him from being transparent as well.

“Fuck, Tooru, that’s  — that’s really hot,” Shouyou says, a little dumbly but in the most charming of ways.

“I’m not going to come like this, though,” Oikawa points out, not without difficulty because his brain is swimming, and drowning, and  _ sinking _ . “It - fuck, it feels good. Your legs are the best, but I need your hand. Please - I need you to touch me, Shouyou. Can you touch me?”

Shouyou nods, dazed.

“I’ll touch you,” he says, and it sounds like he’s making a solemn lifelong vow. “I’ll touch you, yeah. I’ll - I’ll make you come, and feel good, and, and - and everything you want, Tooru. I’ll give you everything you want.”

True to his word, he makes Oikawa come with his hand. 

It doesn’t take much.

Oikawa was pent up and strung tight, like an arrow about to be shot, so it’s only a few moments until that happens. Shouyou’s hands aren’t very big, but they’re perfect. They’re warm and skillful, and he works him expertly with them while he holds him close to himself. He makes Oikawa see stars just like that, with his hand and a few words of encouragement whispered into his ear, and there’s no universe where Oikawa could be embarrassed about that.

It’s impossible to feel embarrassment with Shouyou, even during the comedown, when the adrenaline high is gone, because he’ll go and do something sweet or funny that will make it impossible to feel anything but fondness.

In this case, what Shouyou does is he kisses Oikawa’s cheek noisily before fishing with his clean left hand in one of the pockets of his trousers (which are still shoved down to his mid-thigh) for a bunch of light blue paper napkins he must’ve stolen from the dessert table before .

“Forewarned is forearmed,” he says sagely, using the napkins to clean Oikawa’s cum off his right hand, and for some reason, as insignificant and silly as it is, it feels like the warmest, sunniest bullet pierces through Oikawa’s chest and casts a rainbow inside his heart.

He snorts, amused and endeared and still sitting on top of Shouyou.

“Oh my god, Shouyou, I love you.”

“What?” Shouyou asks, and he’s laughing because it probably sounded like a joke or a hyperbole, and because Oikawa himself is laughing, but it’s none of those things.

“I’m in love with you,” he confesses with an ease that is almost stupid considering how much he’s tortured himself with this. “But where’d you get those napkins from?”

“From the buffet table,” Shouyou explains distractedly. “I figured I had to have something with me if this were to happen, because, well, I was totally hoping this would happen. But, wait - what? You’re - “ he pauses, finally truly processing Oikawa’s words. “You’re  _ what _ ?”

Oikawa gives a little lop-sided, mock offended smile. He’s running high on serotonin, but he’s not gonna do all the work for Shouyou and spell it out for him.

“Oh, no. I refuse to say it again. Twice is more than enough,” Oikawa says, but there’s no real bite to his words. He knows Shouyou heard it, and he knows Shouyou’s probably known for a while, but he’ll leave what comes next to him. He bit the bullet and served, and now the ball is on Shouyou’s side of the court.

The younger looks like he’s petrified at first, taken by surprise in a way that paralyzes him with his swollen lips parted in a small and comical ‘o’, but when he recovers it’s like a pendulum: full-force and all at once. The shock gives way to the brightest grin Oikawa has ever seen.

“But… if  _ I _ were to say it, too, would you say it again then?”

Oikawa eyes him suspiciously, keeping his guarded act up, before he answers. “... Maybe.”

Shouyou just keeps grinning, rivaling the moon in brightness.

“And if I say it twice? You’ll say it twice more?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

“Okay,” Shouyou nods, taking it on like a challenge. “I’m in love with you,” he says, and he even forgoes the ‘too’ like he doesn’t need that crutch to support his feelings when expressing them aloud. And there it is. The answer to the question Oikawa has never dared ask, laid bare like it’s obvious - because it was kind of obvious, even under the insecurities and complications shrouding it and keeping it out of sight.

“I never thought you’d beat me to saying it first, though,” Shouyou adds, always smiling.

“Neither did I, if it’s worth anything. I guess it just slipped, after everything - and I mean  _ everything _ , you know. Tonight, and yesterday, and these past few years, but especially tonight. I liked not having to hold back.”

“Yeah. Holding back sucks,” Shouyou says, leaving the dirty napkin on the sand so he can put his hand on Oikawa’s chest, under the base of his neck. “We can stop doing that, if you want. I don’t want to keep acting like I don’t care. It doesn’t matter we’re far away most of the year— no, actually, it’s  _ exactly _ because of that that I wanna hug you at the airport, and on the street, and at the Olympics, and wherever I want.”

“I… yeah, that sums it up. You’re way better at putting it in words than I would be, chibi-chan,” Oikawa smiles, feeling weirdly comfortable and bubbly at the same time, full of affection and satisfaction and just - just every good thing there is. He has to counter it with some teasing. “But it’s true. You’re really going to need a hug after we beat you and snatch the gold from you.”

Shouyou laughs softly at that, moving his hands to start fixing Oikawa’s shirt and buttoning it up again.

“Huh. Yeah. Okay. I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you. But I’ll hold you to it.”

  
  
  


(The party lasts until seven in the morning, but Oikawa only learns this the next day, when he’s having breakfast with Shouyou on the balcony of their hotel room. It’s a beautiful sunny day, and they’re going to go down to the beach to play against whoever wants to join them, but for now they’re just taking it easy, eating fruit and toast and doing nothing other than enjoy each other’s presence.

Shouyou is wearing Oikawa’s shirt, and Oikawa is wearing Shouyou’s slippers even if they’re a little tiny on him, and he’s scrolling down his social media feed (no dating scandal involving them, surprisingly) while Shouyou does the same next to him, chewing on slices of pineapple as he leans his head on Oikawa’s shoulder.

It seems like nothing has changed, but Oikawa knows that’s not exactly true. Knowing that Shouyou does want to keep this going, that he loves him, and that he’s just as tired as he is of letting a few things, big and unchangeable as they are, keep them apart — it changes everything.

He knows there’s nothing they can do about the distance other than keep on doing the same things they’ve been doing all along, and that it’s not going to be any less difficult and annoying now, but it does feel better and safer now, somehow.

Still, he can’t wait until the Olympics.)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! please validate me with kudos and comments if you enjoyed it.
> 
> you can find me as [@shizunkawa](https://twitter.com/shizunkawa), and don't forget to check out [@abo_gadro](https://twitter.com/abo_gadro) as well! 
> 
> also, here's my [oihina playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7E1dgMWBadzRKpUyveVK37?si=dnOBhqrrT3WwIBXZHNOByA), and if you know what song the title of the fic comes from...... good job


End file.
